A wallowing Harry
by AvatarFangirl-13
Summary: This is just an angsty story about our friend Harry Potter. It's Drarry... And it's set after the fifth book. I hope you like it.


_I would like to thank my awesome friend/beta for reading over my story and fixing it. I love her now. She doesn't get all the credit, though. By the way, my said friend was in the bath with Daniel Radcliffe when he found out he was playing Harry Potter. Though she was only seven at the time, she liked she saw.... By the way, my friends username on Fanfiction is xxSifu Hotmanxx..._

Harry Potter did not like talking about his feelings. Actually, he did not like to talk about anything these days. He was rather used to the quiet, being at the Dursley's for a couple of weeks. His Aunt and Uncle avoided talking to him at all costs and his cousin was always out harassing the ten-year-olds of the neighborhood. So, as lonely as he may have been, he enjoyed not being questioned or bothered about Sirius's death. Though it tore him apart every time the image of Sirius popped into his head, he knew that talk about Sirius would surely kill him. So, for the first two weeks of his vacation, depression ate him alive.

Sirius was gone, Harry knew that. No matter how little Harry wanted admit it was true, Sirius was dead and he was not coming back. Still, he felt a burning sensation when the subject of death came up, or the word "serious" was heard in conversation on the news. One of the most important things in his world had been taken and no one could fill the hole he had inside him. But Harry was no longer at the Dursley's. He was with Dumbledore, headed to the Burrow.

Harry was glad Dumbledore did not try and talk about Sirius. Though Harry felt better then he had all summer while at his Aunt and Uncle's, he still wasn't happy. He was sure that he'd never be happy, but he was at least trying, although he didn't see the point. He supposed that Sirius wouldn't want him to be upset, and to go about life normally, he wasn't able to. Dumbledore did not mention Sirius once on the way to the Weasley's house. They mainly made small talk. 

When Harry had arrived at the Burrow in the middle of the night, earlier then expected, much to Mrs. Weasley's delight. Unsure whether he actually wanted or deserved to be in the company of his friends, he simply smiled at Mrs. Weasley, who had, of course, come running over to hug him. Harry hugged her back for a moment and then pulled away.  

"I've cleared out Fred and George's room for you. It's on the second floor," she told him. Harry gave her a confused look and she began to explain, "Fred and George are staying in the room in their shop. They are getting quite a lot of business."  

So Harry took his trunk up to Fred and George's old room and collapsed on the bed. He was unsure of how long he just lay there, staring up at the ceiling thinking about Sirius. Harry was traumatized by watching his godfather die, of course, but what hurt him most about Sirius's death was that he would never again feel the comfort he got from the letters Sirius sent him and that he no longer had a father figure in his life.  Finally, after what seemed like a couple of hours, Harry fell asleep.

That night, he had yet another strange dream, not unlike the ones he had every once in a while at the Dursley's. Harry felt rather uncomfortable after he had woken up, though thankful that no one had come in to wake him, for that would have been even more embarrassing. Harry lay there for a moment, trying and failing not to think about the dream he had just had. He shuddered. His dream had been about someone he would never expect or want in a dream, Draco Malfoy. Though Harry tried not to think about the details of the dream, he knew one thing; it wasn't the kind of dream he would want to have about Malfoy, or any guy in general. It actually worried Harry that he'd had it more than once. He thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe, it could be sign.

That was rather ridiculous, of course, because it had nothing to do with Voldemort, his Death Eaters, or even someone he remotely cared about. And although Harry didn't want to admit that he was attracted to Malfoy, the dreams had to be triggered by something, and if not Voldemort, then it had to be based on simple attraction.  Harry heaved a sigh. Why did he always have to deal with these types of challenges? He knew that Ron wasn't gay, nor did his best friend have an attraction to his school rival.

Actual, Harry had a pretty good idea of who Ron liked. Well, not just Harry. Everyone did. It was blatantly obvious that Ron fancied Hermione, though Ron would never admit it. Harry also had a feeling Hermione liked him back, but was hesitant to do anything about it because she wasn't entirely certain. This made Harry chuckle slightly.   Harry had always thought they would make a nice a couple, though they hadn't realized it. All their bickering reminded him of young school children who were to shy to share their true feelings.

Sadly, Harry was like this too. In fact, he had many things he didn't know how to share with his friends. Some of them, like the death of Sirius, were to hard to talk about. Others, like his strange dreams, were just awkward and shameful. Harry was sure his friends would never accept it, and would obviously find it creepy and weird. Harry could not stand the thought of losing his friends. It made him feel even emptier. He pictured himself, the small boy he was before he knew of magic. He could not go back to being that little kid now. Now that he knew of another world, one were he had friends and people who cared about him. No, he certainly couldn't tell Ron or Hermione.  

Harry crawled out of bed, feeling worse then ever. His insides turned, and he felt sick to his stomach, but he was used to it by now. He had this feeling every second of every day. He knew that if Sirius were back, he would not have this horrible sensation in the pit of his stomach telling him that there was something missing; he would not have a daily reminder of how stupid he was to fall for Voldemort's tricks, and he would not have to fight back tears every time he woke up in the morning.  

He walked downstairs to find Ron and Hermione waiting for him at the breakfast table. Both of them looked positively ecstatic to see him, the smiles on their face as wide as possible. Harry couldn't help but smile back, knowing how much his friends had missed him. The pang of happiness last all of five seconds before Hermione asked, "How're you holding up, Harry?"

You see, the last thing Harry wanted to be asked right now, was how he was feeling or doing. It just reminded him that he was doing rather badly. Harry sighed and answered with a lame and obviously fake, "Fine." Hermione eyed him suspiciously, but didn't push him.  

Ron, on the other hand, said nothing at all. He was obviously waiting for Harry to say something first. That was both a good and bad idea. It was a good idea because any question Ron might have would most likely annoy Harry, who didn't want to be asked about Sirius, or his Aunt and Uncle, or his mood. It was a bad idea because Harry was no going to start a conversation any time soon. He was wrapped up in his thoughts of Sirius, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Malfoy, which had been haunting him more than usual this morning. He found it hard to listen to anything anyone was saying around him, so when Hermione tried to talk to him he didn't notice.  

"Harry," Hermione said. "Harry? HARRY!" Harry turned and looked at her. He wasn't sure what she had just said, or if she had said anything in the first place. She looked both confused and angry. Harry knew from experience that she did not like being ignored. Harry didn't much care that Hermione was angry at him, though. He had bigger concerns on his mind and it wasn't as if she had never been angry with him before. Harry felt that he really needed to be alone with his thoughts to get over them.

Nonetheless, he wasn't used to not sharing things with his friends, so he found it exceptionally hard. He also knew that Ron and Hermione would want him to talk about what happened. Well, not Ron so much as Hermione. Harry was sure that Hermione would pressure him to talk about Sirius, though Harry was going to ignore her. She knew that he didn't like discussing such topics, but like always, she asked anyway. That is generally the type of thing Hermione did, much to Harry's dismay.

"Yeah?" Harry asked with a mouth full of food. Hermione glared at him angrily. Harry assumed that Hermione was telling him something important and did not feel like repeating herself.

Harry sighed and murmured, "Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind," and gave her a weak smile. She smiled back, but he could tell it was forced.

"I was just saying that I'm really nervous about the O.W.L. scores to come. They're due any day and I'm sure I failed everything!" Hermione said. Harry and Ron looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Both of them knew Hermione had nothing to worry about. She was, of course, the best in the class.

Harry then realized that he had not thought about his O.W.L. scores at all over the summer. Like he said to Hermione, he had a lot on his mind. Most people who have just seen their godfather die in front of their eyes did not think much about test scores, on contrary to popular belief. But suddenly felt a pang of dread and became anxious to see his scores. He was sure he's failed History of Magic, having fainted while taking the exam. Though, he wasn't quite sure about anything else. He didn't think he to well in Division, and he didn't know about Potions, considering Snape hated him and all.

It was just fabulous that he had another worry on his mind. I mean, it's on thing to know that you have a dead godfather, a mass murder, who is also the most powerful dark wizard ever trying to kill him, and the fact that he was homosexual and attracted to Draco Malfoy at that, but also had to deal with the fact that he might fail out of school.

_Well, please share with me your honest opinion my story. So, please um.... REVIEW! I'll love you forever. Tell me if it sucks. Tell me if you love it. Tell me if you want me to continue. Tell me if you think it needs more or less angst.... And most of all... TELL ME IF YOU THINK SIRIUS DYING SUCKS EGGS!!!!!!!!!!!! I most certainly do... *Cries* Anyway... Love you lots, and author. _


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